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That’s me.

In the morning my soul is plump and full of promise. In the morning my soul sings ‘Hallelujah’. I stride into my day, expectant. Alive.

I set my Spotify to a random selection of worship songs, desperately hoping it will choose Eagles Wings. I chat to God, I picture myself with a big life, abundant, full, free.

Let’s do this. Let’s soar.

And then. Afternoon. As the sun starts to set, so too doth my spirit. Like a dried up bird poo on my windscreen that once flew carelessly through the air, there goeth my soulful soaring.

I scramble for my phone, willing my Spotify to give me some sort of miraculous revival, I eek out a dry mouthed ‘it is well… with my soul…’ as I sob into my carbonated caffeine.

My souring ceases.

I want to fly through the air like a bird poo! But every day I hit the windscreen and dry up.

Eventually I stumble into the shower and wash away my failings like a wind screen wiper.

Ever hopeful I wake up the next day, ready to soar.

Perhaps I have misunderstood the verse?

Like the Bec paraphrased version says…

Isaiah 40:31 (BPV)

 but those who hope in the Lord
    will renew their strength.
They will soar like eagle excrement;
    they will run and not grow weary,
    they will walk and not be faint.